


Moment

by grandfatherclock



Series: Half-Seconds at a Time [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Community: widojest love, F/M, Introspection, Lingerie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-28 18:21:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21141122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grandfatherclock/pseuds/grandfatherclock
Summary: "You know?""Know what?""Know that you'repretty."





	Moment

Caleb sighs as Jester threads her freckled blue fingers through his hair.

It isn't a _perfect_ fit, of course, but Jester hums under her breath as she feels the pretty green lace all stark against his pale delicate skin. It's soft, frilly in that design Jester likes, little hearts that interrupt the neat diamond cut, and Caleb flutters his eyes shut as Jester runs her other hand down his side, the two of them settled in her room. "You look _really_ pretty, Cayleb." She murmurs this under her breath, a whisper in the morning light. Usually she's louder, her lilting Nicodrani voice bright and enthusiastic. Right now she's reverent, leaning close to kiss him chastely as he shifts where he sits on his knees in front of her, mirroring her own position. She wants to keep going, wants to keep _touching_, wants to keep feeling the warmth of him in her grip, but _no_, she isn't _done_ yet.

Her eyes watch the garter for a moment, watch his exposed slender hips under the fabric, watch his _legs_, and he flushes so prettily as he sees her violet eyes rake him, sees her pick out a lipstick from her bag, sees her gently begin to apply it to his lips. It isn't _loud_, isn't _dramatic_—and Jester _likes_ loud, _likes_ dramatic, knows Caleb likes it _in_ her. This isn't _about_ her though, even if Caleb would like it to be—this is about _him_, and how delicate he looks right now, and so she goes for something _subtle_, something that seems to tremble with her hand suspended in the air as she hovers it in front of him, being so _careful_ not to smear it. His lips are coated in this glittering transparent blend that draws attention with their every moment, and Jester stares unabashedly for a moment before continuing in her task, continuing in painting Caleb's eyelids subtly as he closes them for her. "You know?" Her voice is soft.

"Know what?" His soft Zemnian voice is almost startling, he's been silent for a _while_. His pale blue eyes are beautiful in the haze of the light through the windows, beautiful in the hues that make his hair look fiery and his skin so _soft_. He looks so perfectly vulnerable sitting here with her, in her room, trying on delicate lace and soft make-up and things that are for behind closed doors. His gaze is steady with so much trust that it makes the smile on Jester's lips widen helplessly, thoughtlessly.

"Know that you're _pretty_." Her voice is insistent, and she gives him a teasing smile. "Everything about you _is_, you know?" Her hand continues to travel, right up until it rests on the cloth of his garter belt. _Fuck_, she wants to _fuck_ him—he'd look so beautiful being _fucked_, but then again, he'd look beautiful doing anything when he wears this, when his head is tilted this way and his gaze is this soft. Her fingers dig into his skin a little—not to _mark_, just a mild little twitch born out of the possessiveness that feels like it's leaking out of her like a flooded well. "You probably _know_, but did someone told you _recently_?"

Caleb watches her for a perfect moment, and Jester feels like all the air is being sucked out of the room, like they're suspended in space and time and it's just the two of them, and everything is just these cabinets and this bed and his lace. Their own kind of dunamancy, the world wrapped around Caleb's dainty blackened fingers and Caleb wrapped around hers. His head is tilted, and then, thoughtlessly, his smile begins to widen, and Jester feels her breath catch. "I know, Jester," he whispers, his voice less soft and a little _rough_ as his eyes trace her, trace how she sits. He moves forward, this sudden jerk of a moment, and Jester _squeals_ in delight as he pulls her close, pulls her _in_—

His lips are perfect, of course. Everything about him is.


End file.
